Love and Temptation
by ShegoRulz
Summary: A Very Potter Musical (AVPM) inspired. The knock on the door changes everything for Voldemort when someone he thought was long- dead returns to bring him back to his old Dark ways. There is only one thing that should be able to keep him safe and sane - his partner Quirrell. But with the temptation closing in, will that be enough to help him...? Quirrellmort / Quirrelmort
1. Chapter 1

**Hello, and welcome to my first ever Quirrellmort fanfic – because who DOESN'T love this adorable 'A Very Potter Musical' pairing? The title will probably change in the future, because at the moment I currently can't think of anything better, so…sorry…**

**Currently rated T, but could possibly be upgraded to M for future chapters (nudge, nudge, wink). **

**Anyway, I hope you enjoy, and I'd love it if you left a review! :D **

**~Shego x **

Life had a funny way of turning out for Voldemort.

Years ago, if someone had told him he'd be capable of loving a person, of even having feelings which didn't involve hate and anger, he'd have laughed in their faces. Emotions like that were for the weak, and he was certainly _anything _but that.

Sex didn't count, because back then it didn't mean anything. Bellatrix was always up for a 'bit of fun' and they had formed a 'no strings attached' kind of arrangement. Love certainly never came into it.

But now…He'd found someone he'd quite honestly die for. Someone who'd been right beside him all this time. A little someone named Quirinus Quirrell.

Voldemort stretched out from his position on the couch, lifting his head to see his partner, who was still sitting at the kitchen table, feverishly marking papers for his damn muggle students. Since Quirrell could hardly go back to Hogwarts after the…uh…_eventful _year the two of them had spent there (Voldemort attaching himself to Quirrell's soul and living off the back of his head, blah blah…), he now taught in a nearby muggle school. He was far braver than Voldemort in that sense – he certainly wouldn't be able to stand going there every day in front of teenagers who had no respect for their teachers at all.

"Quirrell?" Voldemort called out, trying to fight the irritation out of his somewhat raspy voice. "You nearly done?"

"Just a sec." Quirrell replied distractedly, rubbing his forehead. "Be right with you."

Voldemort rolled his eyes as he huffed, "Jeez, man, you've been sitting there for about two hours! Can't you just give them all a B- or something?"

Quirrell finally glanced up and Voldemort noticed how exhausted his partner really was. "Voldemort, _please_." The man half-begged. "I need to get this done for tomorrow's class. If you're bored, go up to bed and I'll join you in a moment. Promise."

Voldemort stood up, stretching with a yawn as he made his way over to where Quirrell was sitting. When he approached, Quirrell tensed, sensing a lecture about his workload, but Voldemort simply rubbed both of his shoulders soothingly. "Dude. You work way too hard." He murmured, kissing the professor's neck as he did so. "But if you want, I can make something _else_ har –"

"Voldemort!" Quirrell blushed fiercely as he shrugged the hands away from his shoulders. "Not now. C'mon, you know how busy I am."

"Ugh." Voldemort huffed, storming away with a disgruntled sigh. "Why did you have to be a teacher? Why not something mundane, like working in an office?"

Quirrell looked at him with a rather hurt expression. "You know how much I love to teach…"

Voldemort winced at the look on his lover's face as he walked back to sit on the chair opposite him, reaching for Quirrell's free hand. "Yeah. I know. Sorry, man. You deserve to do something you love, seeing as I fucked up the Defence Against the Dark Arts position for you."

"You hardly fucked it up, Voldy." Quirrell was now smiling his adorably innocent smile as he squeezed Voldemort's hand back. "We wouldn't have met otherwise, right? Besides, I always wanted to be a Herbology teacher…Defence Against the Dark Arts really isn't my thing. As you probably guessed."

Voldemort smiled back, his thumb circling Quirrell's palm gently, when they were suddenly interrupted by a knock on the door.

Voldemort raised his eyebrows. "Since when do we get visitors?"

"We _shouldn't_ be getting any." Quirrell responded anxiously, as he stood from his chair. "People think you're dead, so it can't be any Auror's sniffing around. It could be a muggle, but it's a little late for house calls…"

"Should I answer it?"

Quirrell shook his head quickly. "No. What if it _is _someone from the Ministry? They'd kill you on sight and then I'd be sent back to Azkaban for harbouring the Dark Lord."

Voldemort winced – he still hated it when Quirrell even _mentioned _Azkaban, as it only made him remember what a shithead he'd been and how much he'd hurt his poor Squirrel. "Ok." He mumbled, shifting uncomfortably as the familiar feelings of guilt crept over him (luckily Quirrell didn't appear to have noticed), "Let's just wait it out."

Quirrell bit his lip as the hammering on the door sounded again, intensifying in volume. "It's alright. I'll go answer it. Stay here." He moved past Voldemort and as he did, Voldy grabbed his hand and kissed it to show him how loved he was and murmured a "Don't be long."

Quirrell grinned back at him as he left the dining room and proceeded to the front door. His palms were sweating and his teeth were beginning to chatter in his nervousness. He scolded himself for being such a wuss, but he couldn't help it. What if it was someone who had come for Voldemort? What would happen to the man he loved?

He stopped when he reached the door and breathed in and out a couple of times, before unlocking it and cautiously pulling it open, coming face to face with the last person he'd expected to see.

The excited grin fell from Bellatrix Lestrange's face as the two of them regarded each other before exclaiming at the same time, "YOU?!"

"What the hell are you doing here, you little peon?" Bellatrix snarled, her wand already in her hand.

"I –I c-c-could ask y-you the same q-question." Quirrell whispered, his stutter creeping back into his voice, the way it always did when he was scared or anxious. His hand gripped tightly onto the door handle, ready to slam the door back in her face. "I th-thought y-y-you were d –"

A sneer came over the death eater's pretty face. "Dead? Just like my _Lord_ is supposed to be dead? I know he's in there, and I know he's been waiting for us to return to him. I've been careful, hiding away from the Ministry who stupidly thought that Weasley bitch killed me, tracking my Lord down…"

"B- but –"

"It took me longer than I'd have liked. There were so many false trails from the other Death Eaters and I'd been to every fucking place they'd suggested. Until I saw him." A slow smile tugged at her mouth as her chest rose and fell rapidly with each breath. "I saw him, I swear to Wizard God, in this shitty muggle territory. I've finally found him. And I know he's in there, so STAND ASIDE!"

"N-n-no." Quirrell protested desperately, cursing his stutter, "You're wrong. H-He's not in h-here, I s-s-swear –"

"Stand ASIDE, you useless slave! CRUCIO!" She shrieked, and laughed in delight as the curse hit its target.

Quirrell screamed in agony, a white-hot pain slashing away at him as he fell to the floor, convulsing as tears streamed down his face, and still it wouldn't relent…it wouldn't stop…It was like he was back at the graveyard…

The fog of pain lifted and he wheezed, his vision blurry as he curled up into a ball. "P-Please…Don't…"

Suddenly, he was aware of strong arms wrapping around him and lifting him up, and Voldemort was kissing his head. "Don't move," he whispered, "It's ok, it's all ok. I've got you." Voldemort had begun to walk, when he addressed Bellatrix, his back still turned away from her. "You stay here. I'll be down to deal with you in a bit."

Quirrell didn't get a chance to hear her reply, because Voldemort Disapparated them both upstairs to their bedroom. He moaned through gritted teeth, shaking uncontrollably in his partner's arms as he was carefully placed onto their bed.

He couldn't hold it back any longer, and a dry sob escaped his mouth. Voldemort instantly enveloped him in his arms once more, stroking the back of his head. "Ssh, ssh. Come on, it's alright. That's it…" He gently lay Quirrell back down again, wrapping the blankets around him and holding onto his hand.

Eventually Quirrell's blurry vision lifted and he managed to squint through half-closed eyes without feeling sick at the pain. "V…Vol…"

"I'm here, Squirrel. Don't worry." Voldemort whispered, stroking his brown hair soothingly, "Everything's gonna be alright…"

"G-Get…her…_out." _Quirrell hissed in pain, "W-Wizard God, w-w-what is she d-doing…"

Voldemort brushed Quirrell's hair from his eyes comfortingly. "Don't worry, you. I'll get rid of her."

"P-promise?" He stammered back weakly, gripping desperately onto Voldemort's hand with what little strength he had. "I can't s-stand having h-her in my house, Voldy. I c-c-can't –"

"Hey, hey!" Voldemort soothed, kissing his partner's head, a lump forming in his throat, "I promise you, she'll be gone by the time you count to ten."

Quirrell managed to smile, his brown eyes sparkling, reassured by his soul mate's words. "Th-thank you…"

"Don't be an idiot, Squirrel. Now close your eyes, try to rest, and I'll be up to join you in just a few moments. Ten seconds, remember."

Quirrell obediently closed his eyes and sank back into his pillow as Voldemort gently untangled their fingers. He kissed Quirrell's lips chastely, glancing at him fondly before he left the room with renewed determination, ready to do some damage.

He sure as hell would show Bellatrix who was still a badass Dark King.


	2. Chapter 2

**Thanks so much for all the reviews, guys! I'm glad you're enjoying it! I'm definitely enjoying writing it :') **

**Warning: Some swear words here, but if you like Starkid I'm sure you're used to it XD **

Voldemort stood on top of the staircase, his fists clenched as he breathed in and out heavily, trying to form some sort of idea in his head. He still couldn't quite get his head around the fact that the woman standing downstairs was actually here – he'd thought her to be dead _long _ago, and if he was being perfectly honest, he was a little bewildered and apprehensive.

In any other case, he'd hug or something, what with her being an old friend and on the whole, a great Death Eater. But he no longer wanted to kill Potter or destroy the world, _and _she had just hurt the person he valued more than life itself, so…Yeah, he guessed a welcoming reunion was pretty redundant.

He gritted his teeth, pissed beyond belief at what Bellatrix had done to Quirrell – it had been completely unnecessary. The poor guy had only been standing there. Still, seeing him must've come as a shock to Bella, since the last time she'd encountered him had been when he was carted off to Azkaban. In hindsight, it would be kind of weird for her to see the ex-Professor staying in the house which currently held the Dark Lord.

Voldemort stiffly walked down the stairs to confirm to himself that the woman standing there was actually his supposedly dead Bellatrix, to find her standing in his hallway. As soon as she clapped eyes on him properly for the first time in months, she clapped her hands and jumped up and down eagerly.

"Yes, yes, YES! Oh, my Lord, I knew it! I knew you were still alive! And now that interfering peon has been dealt with – what the hell is he even doing here, latching onto you? – Anyway, don't worry about him, my Lord, you just leave it to me. I'll kill him for you. I'll do whatever you want."

"Ok," Voldemort shrugged, "I want you to _shut_. _Up_."

She giggled in response, nodding rapidly. "Of course, my liege, of course. Now tell me how you did it! I always knew that little Potter was no match for your intelligence! Tell me why you've been staying here! I guess 'cos that weakling offered you his house as headquarters, right? And he's your slave, or –"

"Get out."

For the first time, she faltered, blinking in confusion. "My…my Lord?"

"You heard me. Get out. I don't want anything to do with the damn Death Eaters. Not anymore, and never again. _Especially_ since you've just hurt Quirrell."

Her eyes narrowed as her lower lip trembled. "What are…You don't care? You don't care that I've spent so long to come back to you, when you thought me to be dead?"

He sighed, rubbing his forehead. "No, Trixie, I…Look, I really am pleased to see you. I think it's great you're still alive and all. But couldn't you have, I dunno, warned me or something? Maybe met up for a coffee instead of a house call?" He glanced back at her with a shake of his head. "Bellatrix, I'm not the same person I was. I know it sounds ridiculous, but…I've changed. For the better."

"But…I still don't…"

Voldemort shrugged and admitted, "It's because of Quirrell. He saved me from myself."

Her mouth twisted angrily. "That pathetic, useless piece of –"

"Hey!" He snapped, "Don't you dare call him that!"

"Oh, come ON!" She half-shrieked, stomping her foot, "Look at you! Look at what that peon has turned you into! You're seriously saying you have no evil desires anymore? You're perfectly happy to give up everything you and your followers have worked for, to sit here and be a…a fucking _house_ _wife_? All because of that _baby_?"

Voldemort felt his face burn up and he struggled for something to say, realising how much her words had hit home. "Well, it – it's not like I'm _soft, _Bellatrix!"

"No?" She challenged, "Then prove it! When was the last time you even fired a damn curse from your wand? Just to hear someone scream for the fun of it? C'mon, you and I did that all the time, _remember? _You and I…" She trailed off and gave Voldemort a look that made him feel extremely uncomfortable. "Well, you and I used to do a _hell _of a lot of explicit things, didn't we, Voldemort?"

"I…" He cleared his throat. "I…yeah…I guess…"

She had suddenly moved closer to him, looking up at him with her dark eyes and a malicious smile that he knew all too well. "If you're trying to convince me you _aren't _soft…" She murmured huskily, "Then kiss me. Be the man I know you are, Voldemort. The man I know, deep down, you still want to be."

His throat had turned inexplicably dry and he licked his lips, swallowing multiple times. She was somehow pressed up against his body now, clinging onto his forearms as he struggled to keep calm. He wanted to shove her away, he honestly did, but…That was what she wanted, to show him he was a weakling. And Lord Voldemort was _not, _under any circumstances, soft.

His lips suddenly came crashing down into hers and she moaned, backing up against the wall, gripping the back of his head. He could hardly help it – he hadn't got any in weeks, dammit, as Quirrell was always so busy at his stupid muggle school…

_Quirrell. _Shit. Quirrell.

He broke apart from Bellatrix, a look of horror on his face. She was panting, her eyes shining as she grinned at him. "Now _that's_ the man I know…"

"Out." He said hoarsely, feeling every inch of him tremble in shock and revulsion at what he'd just done. "Get out, NOW!"

"Fine." She straightened up, smoothing down her dress. "But I'll be waiting on you, my Lord. You and I both know this is the beginning of your pathway back into Dark magic." She purred, already making her way towards the door. "So me, and the rest of the Death Eaters, we'll be waiting. Maybe then you'll realise what you've been missing, especially the fun times with me. Although…" She turned her head to look at him with a smirk. "I think you already have some idea."

The door slammed shut behind her and Voldemort collapsed into the nearest chair, his head in his hands. What the fuck had that even been about? He was in love with Quirrell, painfully so, the kind of love he never thought would be possible for him to feel and have returned. He hadn't thought of Bellatrix at all since the two men had been reunited; he'd had no reason to.

Even when she'd technically been his girlfriend, he'd felt nothing romantic towards her at all. She'd been a fuck buddy – an admittedly good one at that – but nothing more. He could've thrown everything he had with Quirrell away and for what? Cheap sex with an old Death Eater of his, who wanted him to convert back to his old ways?

A low moan escaped from his lips and his breathing was beginning to grow shaky. What had he done? What the hell had he done to Quirrell, his poor Quirrell who was lying upstairs recovering from the Cruciatus curse?

Voldemort inhaled deeply, getting to his feet and locking the front door, before heading back to his bedroom. Quirrell was still curled up in bed, seemingly asleep, but he shifted and mumbled, "That was more than ten seconds," with a smile.

"Nonsense." Voldemort replied, taking off his shirt, trying to fight the tremors from his voice. "You just fell asleep and lost track of time. It was ten seconds exactly."

Quirrell giggled sleepily, his eyes still closed as Voldemort crawled in beside him, blinking fiercely as he watched his beautiful partner. He edged closer and kissed him on the lips, pouring all of his passion and love into it in an attempt to escape his guilt. Quirrell responded back with a contended sigh as Voldemort wrapped his arm around him, pulling him closer.

"Quirrell, you're shaking."

"The curse," He mumbled, "Nerves are going crazy."

"Shit, man." Voldemort held him tighter, kissing his neck. "Shit, I'm sorry."

"Not your fault!" Quirrell insisted, still somewhat half-asleep. "You didn't do anything."

He had no idea. And Voldemort vowed to never tell him what had happened – risking everything he had with his soul mate, just for the sake of one stupid kiss which hadn't even meant anything? Besides, if he _did _tell Quirrell, he'd take it the wrong way, what with Voldemort and Bellatrix's history. No. he'd just have to push away the guilt and act as if it had never happened. What his squirrel didn't know wouldn't hurt him.

"I should've answered the door," Voldemort murmured, stroking his hair. "Not you."

"What, I shouldn't answer doors for my health now?" Quirrell snorted, squinting his eyes open to see Voldemort, "Dude, seriously. Forget it. She's gone now and I'll be fine after some sleep."

"Mm." Voldemort murmured, kissing him again a little more forcefully. Quirrell returned the kiss, clearly surprised at its intensity, as Voldemort's hands roamed up and down his chest. One hand inched down towards Quirrell's crotch, and the ex-professor jumped away from the touch, immediately sitting up despite hissing at the pain.

"Voldemort! W-what the h-h-hell are you doing?" Quirrell asked, his stutter returning as he looked at the pale man disapprovingly.

"Uh…" Voldemort faltered, sitting up too. He honestly hadn't been expecting that reaction. "Making out, I guess?"

"Voldy, I'm recovering from a Cruciatus curse, a-and you try to _j-jump_ me?" Quirrell exclaimed, wrapping his arms around himself, his lip trembling.

"What? No! Shit, I didn't – Dude, I didn't mean it like _that! _Aw, come on, lighten up!"

"Lighten up?" Quirrell whispered, "A-are you s-s-seriously telling me, a-after everything that's h-happened between me and that b-bitch, to _lighten up?" _

Voldemort inwardly cursed himself as his pale face turned even paler. "Listen, Quirrell, I didn't…I'm really sorry for upsetting you. Come on, lie back down. Forget that all happened."

"I'd l-love to." Quirrell snapped, "I'd love t-to forget what it's l-like to b-be tortured. I'd love to f-f-forget how it feels to be l-locked up by yourself with d-dementors sucking o-out your h-h-happy thoughts. You know something, I'd just l-like to forget _e-everything!" _The skinnier man buried his face in his hands, his breathing raunchy, and Voldemort felt his heart break.

"Quirrell…" He edged closer to him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders, even though Quirrell tried to shrug him off. "Quirrell, listen to me. I'm so, so sorry. I shouldn't have tried to get off with you when you're hurting so badly. And I shouldn't tell you to lighten up, because you're right – I've never felt what it's like to be on the receiving end of that curse. I don't know how it feels to be locked up in Azkaban. Because I'm not as brave and wonderful as you are." He gently removed Quirrell's hands and kissed him on the cheek, nuzzling against him.

Quirrell melted at his touch, clasping onto his hand as he wiped away his tears with the other one. "S-sorry I snapped…"

"Don't be. I deserve it. I barely deserve _you, _my little squirrel, so you can feel free to throw everything you've got at me and I know I'll still be lucky to have you."

"I l-l-love you, Voldy…I don't want t-to lose you…"

"Lose me?" Voldemort frowned, caressing Quirrell's cheek, "I'm not going anywhere. I promise you, Quirrell, I'm yours. Now c'mon, let's go to sleep."

But even with Quirrell curled against his chest, breathing heavily in his slumber while Voldemort stroked his hair didn't put the ex-Dark Lord at rest. He knew, somewhere nearby, Bellatrix was lurking around, waiting for him.

He closed his eyes, planting a kiss on the top of Quirrell's head, wondering with apprehension just what was in store for the both of them.

**Sorry if it seemed a little rushed, I just really wanted to get this chapter out! Uh-oh, looks like Voldy's in trouble…**


	3. Chapter 3

**Woop, another chapter! Just realised I haven't put a disclaimer yet, so…uh…**

**I do not own Harry Potter or a Very Potter Musical. That's JK Rowling and Team Starkid (who are totally awesome). **

**Thanks for all the comments, guys! Enjoy, and please review! :D **

Voldemort woke the next morning by Quirrell untangling himself from their embrace and shifting himself off the bed. He rubbed his eyes, squinting as he tried to form a coherent sentence.

"Squirrel?" He slurred, "What're you doing?"

"Going to work, silly." Quirrell replied optimistically, slipping on a shirt. "Didn't mean to wake you. Go back to sleep."

"What? Quirrell, you can't go back to work today!" Voldemort struggled to a sitting position, still half-asleep. "You're recovering! Come back to bed right _now."_

Voldemort could practically _hear _his partner's eye roll. "Mh-hm, yeah. Dude, I'm completely fine. There's not even a scratch on me from when I hit the floor."

"But sometimes it's more than just physical hurt, Quirrell! You know that better than anyone. You were having nightmares last night."

At this, Quirrell tensed. "Did you look into my head?"

"What? No! I heard you muttering. I tried to wake you, but you quietened down and seemed to be ok. Besides, I figured you needed the sleep, which you s_till do." _

Quirrell sighed, turning to face him as he continued to button his shirt. "Voldy, I'm used to a couple of nightmares every so often. Even if that bitch hadn't made an unexpected appearance, I probably still would've had the bad dream. I'm fine; trust me."

"Yeah, but –" Voldemort rubbed his eyes as he got out of the bed, "I'm worried about you. I mean, Cruciatus curses are no joke, and you being as skinny as you are…" He absent-mindedly took the tie wrapped around Quirrell's neck and tied it for him, his eyebrows furrowed. "Are you _sure _you're ok?"

Quirrell leaned forward and kissed him on the lips with a smile. "I promise. I wouldn't go if I didn't feel up to it. Besides, I really need to go in to school today. I'll call you if I start to feel bad, though, ok?"

Voldemort gave a disgruntled sigh. "Alright then. Seriously man, if you even if you get a _headache, _you call me and come home so I can look after you."

Quirrell grinned at him as he got pulled in closer towards Voldemort, wrapping his arms around his neck. "You always want to look after me."

"Of course I do. You're my squirrel, aren't you?" Voldemort kissed him again, intensifying it and making Quirrell moan slightly as he sucked on his bottom lip. They broke apart, both of their breathing heavier than normal. "Besides," Voldemort continued, smirking at Quirrell's flushed cheeks, "teenage students are the _worst."_

"They _are_ pretty bad." Quirrell buried his face in Voldemort's neck, his voice muffled. "But I need to give them back their assignments…Ugh…"

Voldemort ruffled Quirrell's hair comfortingly with his free hand, as his other arm was wrapped around his partner's body. "Don't take any of their crap today. Remember, if you feel bad, just come home."

"I will." Quirrell pecked him on the lips a few more times, not wanting to break away from Voldemort's hold. Eventually he had to, of course, and finish getting everything he needed for work. Voldemort watched him leave the house and get into their muggle car which they owned, then stood in the doorway as it drove off.

He sighed to himself, already feeling intensely lonely without Quirrell, then shook himself out of it. Perhaps it was just as well his soul mate was at work; Voldemort had a lot to sort out himself. Number one, putting some strong defensive charms around the house in case any more unwelcome Death Eaters came calling so the two of them would have time to get the hell out of the place. And number two, tracking down Lucius Malfoy in order to make sure him or Bellatrix wouldn't plot anymore evil schemes for his 'return' to them.

Easier said than done.

XxX

Quirrell leant back in his chair, rubbing his eyes tiredly as he watched his class continue to talk and completely ignore the work he'd set for them to do. Any other day he'd at least make an a_ttempt _to get them to focus, but he just wasn't in the right frame of mind today. As much as he hated to admit it, he was still sore and drained from Bellatrix's curse and just wanted to crawl back into bed with a decent book.

"Ok, class," He cleared his throat, addressing the gossiping teenagers, who simply glanced up at him and then returned to their conversations. "Class!" he tried again, a little louder as he stood up. "Everyone, listen to me. I graded your assignments last night and was a little disappointed to say the least. Especially as half of you didn't even bother to finish it. You don't seem to realise that this is your final grade and it's really important, so stop talking and start on the work that I've given you! _Now!"_

There was a collection of disgruntled sighs from around the room as his students grudgingly began scribbling. Pleased to have some long-awaited peace and quiet, Quirrell sat back down in his chair and tried to ignore the thumping pain in his head, determined to get through the whole school day. The last thing he needed was to remind Voldemort how pathetic he was; his boyfriend had seen enough of that from last night. Thank Wizard-God his nightmare hadn't lasted for long or – Quirrell shuddered – that Voldemort hadn't looked into his head. It had been about being abandoned at the Graveyard again and he knew that, oddly enough, Voldemort was usually the one who felt worse whenever that night was brought up.

Quirrell suppressed the urge to sigh miserably as he thought of last night's events. Admittedly, he'd probably overreacted a little, but still – Voldemort should've known how edgy and uncomfortable he was around contact whenever he returned to a dark place in his mind by now. And having Bellatrix Lestrange in his own home, firing curses at him, was enough to make Quirrell feels cold and depressed and pathetic inside. He hated it so much when it got like this, when he could feel every bad thought coming back to the surface.

But he wasn't alone anymore, he reminded himself as he allowed a small smile to flash across his face. He was safe. He knew that Voldemort would always protect him and would never let him go again. The two of them were far from perfect, but they completed each other and they needed each other. That was all that mattered.

A knock on his classroom door made him jump and he hastily called out, "Come in," before his students began to talk again.

The door opened and he nearly had a heart attack. His breath hitched in his throat, his eyes widened and his whole body was beginning to tremble as he relived his nightmare all over again.

"Hey, Quirrelly!" Bellatrix beamed, eagerly clapping her hands. "Can I take you away from your kiddies for a minute?"

He tried to stand up without falling over, clutching onto his desk for support as his class began murmuring to one another. He hastily managed to stumble over to the doorway where Bellatrix was standing triumphantly. "L-Leave." He protested through gritted teeth, his stutter unfortunately making a reappearance in his fright. "P-please, these are _muggles!" _

"I'm aware of that, you filthy half-breed." She sniffed contemptuously, though she kept her voice low as the class behind Quirrell began to raise their volume of noise as they chatted to one another. "Trust a peon like you to work anywhere else."

"H-h-h-how did y-y-you find m-me h-here?"

"Holy shit, can you not speak _properly? _How do these kids stand it? How does the _Dark Lord_ stand it? He could at least have picked an articulate slave to provide for him."

Quirrell's face darkened. "I-I'm not h-his _slave. _I'm h-h-his _boyfri-"_

"If you had any sense, you'd shut your mouth and come with me before any blood gets sprayed on the little children." She snarled, her teeth bared. "So come on, Quirrelly, we have important matters to discuss."

He bit his lip, struggling not to do something stupid like cry out for help, as he turned back to the students. "Class!" He managed to say without his voice cracking as he attempted to calm his stutter, "G-Get on with your work. I'll b-be back shortly, I j-just have some b-business to attend to. C-carry on."

Bellatrix grinned again, reaching out to grip tightly onto his arm as he shut the door behind them. He tried to tear himself away, but she only held on tighter, practically dragging him outside into the school grounds.

"W-What do you e-even w-want? V-Voldemort's not h-h-here and I c-c-can't give y-you any i-information on h-him." He insisted desperately as she abruptly stopped walking, jarring his arm painfully.

She sneered at his small yelp and roughly let go off him, pulling out her wand. "Don't even think about running unless you want me to Crucio your _ass, _peon! Now stand against that wall and listen to me. That's it…and keep your arms out so I know you won't try anything funny."

Quirrell obliged, not even bothering to control his shaking body as he cast his eyes upwards and bit his lip. "P-p-please…"

"Silence, slave! Geez," she rolled her eyes, "don't be such a pussy. I haven't even done anything to you yet and you're about to bawl like a baby. Wizard God knows why the Dark Lord chose _you _to serve him…"

"B-but I t-told you." Quirrell insisted, meeting her gaze defiantly, "He d-didn't chose m-me to serve him. He chose m-me as a _l-l-lover. _You j-just can't h-handle the f-fact he w-wanted me o-o-over you and always _will!" _

"CRUCIO!" She suddenly shrieked in rage, sparks flying from her wand. "CRUCIO, YOU LITTLE LIAR!"

He screamed, collapsing to the floor as his body convulsed. In the process he had bitten his tongue to stop himself from crying, and consequently blood was now filling up in his mouth. He managed to spit it out, moaning in agony as the pain pulsated continuously throughout him. He'd whacked his head when he'd fallen too, and could feel the warm blood trickling down the side of his face.

"Tell the truth, slave." She snarled, "As if the Dark Lord would even _consider _you! Tell me what he's really planning. Tell me when he's going to return to his loyal followers, dammit!"

When she didn't get any response except for more moans and quiet, raunchy sobs, she swore viciously and pointed her wand at him again. "Now! Tell me _now, _unless you'd like another curse! The Cruciatus is just a fucking warm up for me! You have no _idea _what I could do to you!"

"I d-don't know," he whispered brokenly, "he's not p-planning anything…not that I know o-o-of…P-please…"

She growled in exasperation. "He won't tell me what he's up to, but it's gotta be something. Why else would he be hiding in muggle territory with _you?"_

Through the fog of pain, her words hit home as Quirrell contemplated the statement. Maybe she had a point…maybe she was right and Voldemort was only staying with him because he had a piece of his soul in him…The idea was too terrible to imagine and he started crying more heavily.

"But I'll find out…Sooner or later, I'll be back by his side, and _you?" _She sneered, "Well, you'll be back in Azkaban for harbouring him, won't you?" She giggled as she tucked away her wand. "So don't get too comfy, Quirrelly. 'Cos your whole world is gonna come crashing down sooner than you think. Because I know for a _fact _that the Dark Lord doesn't want you."

He tried to lift his head but couldn't quite manage it. Instead he just moaned again.

"Oh, you want to know what I mean by that, right? Don't worry; you'll realise it soon enough. Perhaps you should ask him when you get home and the truth will all come out. Because there's one thing him and I have – history. What do _you _have, slave? Hm?"

"I _d-did_ h-have him on the b-back of my h-head." He managed to say, even finding the strength to use some sarcasm in there. Anything to make himself seem a little less pathetic.

She growled something under her breath. "You won't be so funny when you're left rotting in a cell again. See you soon, slave. Your time's coming."

"Y-you can't l-leave me h-here…At l-least put m-me somewhere h-hidden away f-f-from the m-muggles!" He tried to get up on all-fours but collapsed back to the ground in agony.

She laughed. It was such a pretty laugh for such a sadistic person. Before he knew it, she had Disapparated away.

He didn't know how long he lay there, listening to the world go by as he closed his eyes and tried to forget it all. His whole body – especially his cut head – were throbbing in pain and he just wanted to end it all. He wanted Voldemort. But Bellatrix was right – he probably didn't love him at all. Tears seeped from his closed eyelids and despair and misery washed over him, blackening his thoughts once more, worse than a dementor attack.

Eventually he head the sounds of footsteps and he tenses, suspecting Bellatrix again, but a shocked voice made him feel a bit more hopeful about ending this stupid pain.

"My goodness, Quirinus!" Lauren Beatty, the headmistress, exclaimed as she knelt down beside him. "What on earth happened?"

"I t-tripped." He lied, "B-Blacked out…Sorry…"

"Don't apologise! I can't believe we didn't find you sooner! How long have you been lying here for? Oh, come on, put your arm around me and I'll help you up. Questions later."

He hissed in pain as she helped him up, clutching at her in an effort to keep himself upright in a way he was sure he'd be embarrassed about in a few days. "S-sorry…"

"Please, Quirinus, stop saying that! Your students will be covered by another teacher. You're going to the first-aid room and then straight home, do you hear me? Did you drive into school today?"

"Y-yes…"

"I'll get a teacher to give you a lift home. You won't be in any state to drive."

"Oh, n-no, it's ok –"

"No arguments. Now, come on, let's get you seen to." She helped him back inside the school, as another wave of dread washed over him when he thought of what Voldemort would say when he saw what had happened.

**Please review!**


	4. Chapter 4

**This chapter turned out WAY longer than originally intended. Oops. **

**Warning: Pure, pure fluff. With sexual themes towards the end *wink* Also goes into a bit of detail about Quirrell's time in Azkaban, which could be quite disturbing for some readers so if it is, I apologise. **

**Thanks for all the reviews everyone!**

Voldemort aggressively poured himself a glass of water, slamming the glass down on the kitchen counter as he fumed. That damn Lucius was nowhere to be found. Of course, old Death Eaters would never show up when Voldemort actually went _looking _for them. Fucking cowards. And he could hardly summon him here by the Dark mark, as then he'd know where he lived – it was bad enough Bellatrix knowing – and besides, he'd sworn to Quirrell to never do that again.

Still, at least he'd managed to put up defensive charms around the place. Now if anyone who had the Dark mark attempted to enter, traps would spring up and alarms would sound inside the house so he and Quirrell would have plenty of time to make their escape.

There was a clicking sound and the main door suddenly swung open and Voldemort frowned, glancing at the clock to find it was only 1pm. Quirrell wasn't due home for another couple of hours yet.

"Hey," Voldemort called out, "you're home ear…" he turned around and his words trailed off, his heart seizing up at the sight of his partner. "Oh, Quirrell…Holy shit, Quirrell…What happened?"

Quirrell had a bandage wrapped around his head, and the left side of his face was scratched and bruised, his whole body trembling. He stared at the floor, wrapping his arms around himself as he continued to shake.

Voldemort hurried over to him, gently cupping his chin to make him meet his eyes and without warning, Quirrell grabbed him and sobbed into his shoulder. Voldemort held him close, careful not to hurt anything, soothingly rubbing his back. "Ok, hon, ok…Let's sit you down and you can tell me when you're up to it, yeah?" He held onto his hand, carefully wiping away his tears with his other one, guiding him towards the living room.

"There, Squirrel, sit down." Voldemort sat himself down on the couch, gesturing for Quirrell to do the same as he opened his arms out.

Quirrell obliged silently, crawling over to Voldemort who held him against his chest as he continued to softly cry. "Ssh, I've got you. You're safe."

"I-I-I…" Quirrell gasped out through his sobs, looking anguished at how he couldn't form any words.

"Hey, take your time," Voldemort urged, "don't worry, I'm right here. Take as long as you need."

After a few minutes, with Voldemort repeatedly rubbing his back as Quirrell nuzzled against him, he took a deep breath and tried again. "She a-a-attacked m-me." He whispered, burying his face in Voldemort's shirt.

Voldemort's grip on him tightened. "Who? Who attacked you?"

"B-B-Bellatrix. She c-c-came…" His stutter and raunchy sobs forced him to take another few moments. "C-c-came into m-my c-c-class. T-took me o-o-outside…"

Voldemort looked horrified as he gently lifted Quirrell's head so he could look at him. "She came to the _school? _What, in front of everybody? And then took you out onto the grounds? Fuck. _Fuck! _Oh, Quirrell…You don't deserve any of this…"

"C-Cruciatus c-curse…" He whispered numbly, "t-two t-t-times…I h-hit my h-head on the g-ground…She k-k-kept saying…" He shook his head, gripping onto Voldemort even tighter.

"What? What did she say?" Voldemort gently massaged Quirrell's scalp, his heart racing in anxiety. _Not the kiss…Not that stupid kiss…_

"I-I'm y-your s-s-slave a-and you're using m-me…Don't laugh!"

"Sorry, sorry!" Voldemort grinned, looking at him in amusement. "_Slave? _My _slave? _I'm the only one who does any freakin' housework around here."

"I'm b-being s-s-serious, V-Voldemort! A-a-are you u-using m-me to r-rise back t-to power? D-do you e-even love m-m-me?" His crying stopped him from going any further and Voldemort was now looking appalled as his partner sobbed.

"Wha…Quirrell!"

"I'm s-s-sorry!"

"Quirrell how could you _think _that I…"

"B-b-because you u-used to b-be the D-Dark L-l-lord for Merlin's s-sake! And B-Bellatrix told m-me y-you c-could never l-love someone l-like m-m-me and she's _right!" _

"No, Quirrell, she isn't! Don't listen to _anything _she said, do you hear me? Look at me. Quirrell, please, look at me."

Quirrell anxiously lifted his head from Voldemort's chest, looking up at him. Voldemort kissed his bandaged forehead, his expression full of remorse. "Never, ever think like that. I love you with everything I have – you're the only person I've _ever _loved and I don't deserve you. I can promise you right now that I have _no _intention of plotting to take over the world or kill Potter or some shit. And I'm going to work so hard to protect you from any more harm, because I've been responsible for practically all of the pain you've had and…I'm so sorry, Quirrell. Please, believe me…"

Quirrell raised his hand and ran his thumb along Voldemort's jaw line. "Y-you _really_ love me? You p-promise?" He whispered for complete reassurance, his stutter receding as he calmed down.

"Always have, always will."

"And you'll s-stay with me?"

"Forever." Voldemort softly kissed Quirrell's lips, who jumped at first and then melted into it. "So now I just have to track Bellatrix down."

Quirrell looked terrified. "N-no!"

"Y-Yes." Voldemort teased, brushing his lips over Quirrell's again, while one hand carefully stroked his scratched cheek. "She's not getting away with this, Squirrel. Look at what she's done to you. You think I'm just gonna sit back and accept it?"

"N-not now, at least." Quirrell said anxiously, "J-just hold me. Forget a-about it for tonight."

Voldemort nodded with a sigh. "For you, Quirrell, I'd do anything. And I'm certainly not gonna complain about holding you. Is there anything you need?"

"A hot bath and some potion for my pain." Quirrell seemed to have considerably calmed down as he snuggled closer.

"I think I can manage that." Voldemort said with a smile, absent-mindedly smoothing Quirrell's hair. "But we'll have to stand up, y'know."

"Ugh." Quirrell groaned, struggling into a sitting position, hissing in pain as his muscles protested.

"Easy," Voldemort soothed, helping him stand to his feet and making him lean his weight against him. "That's it, you're ok. I've got you."

Quirrell sighed in contentment, nuzzling against him. "I know. I love you."

"Love you too, hon. I'll run you a bath and go make some potion." Voldemort kissed the top of his head, then smirked, "Want me to carry you upstairs?"

Quirrell rolled his eyes, "I'm not _that _pathetic."

"I never said you were, but we both know you're in pain." They had reached the staircase and Voldemort proceeded to half-lift Quirrell up the stairs, who clung onto him gratefully as they struggled up. "Tell me where it hurts."

"Um…my head, my legs, my stomach…everywhere, I guess." Quirrell admitted as they entered their bedroom. "It's a lot worse than yesterday, but it doesn't help that I whacked my body on concrete, so it's not entirely the curse. Hey, what're…what're you doing?"

"Taking off your shirt. You can't go in a bath fully-clothed, can you?"

Quirrell blushed furiously, "B-but…I can do that myself…"

"I know. I enjoy doing it; sue me." Voldemort finished unbuttoning the shirt and took it off, then inhaled sharply. "Oh, shit, you're all bruised. It must be so painful."

"Y-yeah, it…it is." He admitted in a murmur, shivering as Voldemort traced his fingers over the purple and black bruises that covered his torso. Voldemort noticed this and immediately stopped, straightening up.

"Sorry." He said a little sheepishly, "I'll…I'll start the bath."

"It's ok," Quirrell grabbed his hand and held onto it, smiling. "You don't need to apologise. You weren't hurting me or anything." The ex-professor knew how paranoid his partner was about doing anything that could potentially bring Quirrell pain.

Voldemort smiled back in relief. "Good. I never want to hurt you ever again. I hope you know that."

"I do." He assured him, "P-please, don't worry. I need you to just…act normal around me. I'm g-gonna be ok."

"I can't help but worry, Squirrel, especially when you get ambushed in a muggle school, of all places." Voldemort insisted, walking into their en-suite as he began to run a bath. Quirrell followed him in and stood beside him, placing a hand on his shoulder.

"It w-wasn't your fault."

Voldemort shook his head angrily. "She's looking for _me. _She hurt you to get to _me. _She's convinced I'm going to return and screw the world over and it's all on _me!" _

Quirrell anxiously bit his fist at his outburst and began to shake again. Voldemort noticed and softened instantly, enveloping him in his arms in an attempt to sooth him. "Hey…" He murmured, "I'm sorry…I just feel so shitty right now, man. When you look at it, it _is _my fault and that's killing me."

Quirrell rested his head against Voldemort's strong chest. "I d-don't blame you, Voldy."

"I know. That's because you're such a sweet guy. Anyone else would pack their bags and leave."

Quirrell looked shocked as he pulled away. "I'd n-never leave!"

"Glad to hear it." Voldemort grinned, kissing his nose and then grinned mischievously. "Bath's ready. I'm sure you can take your pants off yourself, unless you want a hand with those too…"

Quirrell's face flushed again as he nervously cleared his throat. "I c-can manage…"

Voldemort laughed and ruffled his hair, kissing his scratched cheek. "I'll be downstairs making the potion. Sure you'll be alright?"

"I'm capable of getting in and out of a bath, t-trust me." Quirrell assured him with a sweet grin. "S-stop worrying."

"I can only try." Voldemort blew him a kiss before leaving the room, his breath hitching in his throat and his eyes glossing over as he walked back down the stairs. He was bewildered, upset and angry – poisonously angry. Angry at himself, at Bellatrix, at Quirrell's fucking school which had _no _defensive systems…

He furiously slammed the ingredients for the potion on the counter, snarling to himself. Bellatrix. It was always that fucking Bellatrix. He'd get her, he'd make her pay…This time there was no going back. She had well and truly killed any small part of him that desired to convert back to his evil ways.

The potion didn't take too long to make, all things considered, and it was almost completed when he heard Quirrell come down the stairs in his pyjamas and dressing robe, looking absolutely adorable.

"Quirrell, you should've called for me and I'd have helped you down the stairs!" Voldemort managed to say after he'd recovered from the cuteness overload.

"Y-yeah," he admitted, collapsing into the seat by the counter, grimacing in pain. "I know. That was s-stupid."

Voldemort rolled his eyes, pouring the potion into a small mug and passed it to Quirrell. "Drink up. There's loads left over if you need it. Now this one has a few side effects, like temporary drowsiness so if you suddenly feel tired and need to sleep, don't worry about it."

Quirrell looked at him gratefully before slowly drinking all of the potion in the mug bit by bit, grimacing a little at the taste. "Thank you, V-Voldy."

"Any time. I hope it works for you soon." Voldemort sat opposite him, reaching for his hand with a smile.

Quirrell had a dreamy expression on his face and was giggling. "Ha ha…I feel fuzzy…"

"Fuzzy's good, Squirrel. It'll wear off in a bit and you should feel better." Voldemort grinned, lifting up his hand to kiss it.

"You're so handsome," Quirrell beamed back, slurring his words slightly, "I love you, man…"

Voldemort struggled not to laugh. "Thanks, Quirrell. So are you."

"Noo, but _Voldy." _Quirrell protested, "You're so _hot _and I wanna…I wanna…" He broke off, giggling again, "I wanna have sex with you right now."

"No, you don't." Voldemort said gently, although he was blushing a little and felt very warm all of a sudden. "Hon, the potion's making you a little out of it."

"Don't you want to have sex with me?" Quirrell pouted, his expression driving Voldemort insane with how damn adorable he was.

"Of course I do," He admitted, "I've wanted nothing else for practically _weeks _now. But no sex for you tonight, not when you're so injured."

"I don't even care about my injuries. I want you." Quirrell whispered huskily, looking at him intently. "Voldy…Please…"

"Quirinus Quirrell, stop that." Voldemort said, wondering how long the side-effects lasted as he began to uncomfortably squirm in his seat. "I said no. You need comfort and companionship, not sex."

Quirrell huffed indignantly, his eyelids beginning to droop as he yawned, suddenly slumping forward. Voldemort quickly stood to support him.

"Ok, Quirrell, you need to sleep. Up you get, I'll take you to the couch. The side effects are only meant to last for about 20 minutes I think, so no point taking you upstairs when you'll be awake soon enough."

Quirrell murmured something incoherently, nuzzling against him as Voldemort proceeded to carry him to the couch and gently set him down, pulling a blanket over him. Quirrell shut his eyes and within a few moments was snoring quietly.

Voldemort knelt down so he could hold his hand and watch him sleep, smiling at how peaceful he looked, despite the scratches on his face and the bandage on his head. Voldemort hesitantly began to unwind the said bandage, figuring it would probably be more useful to perform magic on the wound instead, and practically wanted to break down when he was the injury. His poor Quirrell's head had a deep, ugly red scratch, surrounded by a mixture of black and blue bruises. He tentatively kissed the painful-looking area, once again vowing to destroy the living daylights out of Bellatrix.

He took out his wand and lightly tapped the area, murmuring chants under his breath. The redness receded a little and didn't look quite as painful, and the deep cut began to close up, although not completely. Voldemort's magic was still a little shoddy after being beaten _again _by that damn Potter boy, but it would have to do for now.

xXx

After around half an hour Quirrell stirred and struggled to a seated position, rubbing his eyes as he looked around, a bit disorientated.

"Hey," Voldemort said, once he'd found his gaze, "how're you holding up?"

"Better." Quirrell mumbled back, then winced in embarrassment, "Sorry about…uh, you know, the whole trying to get you to fuck me thing."

"No problem."

"But I don't feel as sore," Quirrell stretched and shot him a grin, "I feel pretty good, actually."

"Glad to hear it, Squirrel. D'you want a drink?"

"Sure." He swung his legs out and hauled himself up, holding onto Voldemort's outstretched arm. "Tea's good."

"I'm on it." Voldemort kissed his cheek. "Hope you don't mind, but I did some magic on your head. It looks a little better so hopefully it feels better too."

Quirrell raised his free hand up and his fingers lightly skimmed over the injury. "Thanks, Voldemort." He smiled sweetly, "It _does_ feel better. Was it really bad?"

"It looked pretty sore." Voldemort admitted, breaking apart from Quirrell as he sorted out two mugs for the tea. He heard Quirrell sit opposite the counter as the kettle boiled. "Hopefully it should heal up in a couple of days. And no arguments; you're not going back to that school tomorrow. Ok?"

Quirrell sighed. "Yeah…ok…"

"I'm not doing it to say 'I told you so', I'm doing it because I care." Voldemort passed him his mug of tea as he took a seat opposite him. "Anyway, at least I'll be able to protect you if anything happens."

"I know. You're right." Quirrell sighed again as he took a sip of his tea. "I just can't believe she actually turned up where I worked. That Bellatrix though…she's something else. I'm not sure what's worse – _her _torture or the dementors' torture. It's a close call."

Voldemort had glanced up at him sharply at the mention of the dementors and was now looking at Quirrell with a troubled expression. "Well…" He cleared his throat, that awful guilt slowly but surely weighing him down once more, "Bellatrix enjoys physical torture, but with dementors it's a mental kind. Depends which one you find worse, I guess."

"Oh, no," Quirrell said in an alarmingly matter-of-fact fashion, cradling the mug of warm tea in his hands, "The dementors participated in physical torture too whenever they were bored. Hey, didn't I tell you about what they did when some prisoners wanted a shower?"

Voldemort was no looking slightly sick. "I…I didn't know that they…No, you didn't."

"Oh. Well, I find it's actually kinda easier now to talk about my experiences in that place, y'know? In a way it actually helps me, instead of bottling it all up."

_Not for me, _Voldemort thought desperately, _please, Quirrell, it doesn't help me…_

"Sure," Was all Voldemort managed with a short nod. "That's understandable. You can tell me anything."

"Oh, good," Quirrell said gratefully, putting his mug down. "Well, this was like only two months in to my sentence and there were a select few of the prisoners, me included, who were still sane enough to respect good personal hygiene. So the dementors were patrolling the prison corridors, making everyone miserable, when one asked if any of us would like a shower."

"And you said _yes?" _Voldemort asked incredulously, "They're _dementors, _they don't randomly do nice things for people, Quirrell!"

"Yeah, I know. But at the time I was so drained and lonely anyway that I was just glad that someone was talking to me in a seemingly friendly tone. I didn't put much thought into it." he admitted a little sheepishly. "So a few of us practically jumped up at the chance of actually feeling warm and clean for a couple of minutes and said yes. So they took five of us out of our cells so we were just standing in the corridor."

"Don't tell me you tried to escape." Voldemort looked appalled, but Quirrell shook his head.

"I was way too weak to even consider it. But another guy just went all out and started sprinting away from them. They caught him, obviously, before he could get anywhere. They gave him the Kiss." He looked off into the distance for a moment, in another world, his eyes blank. Voldemort reached for his hand uncertainly and Quirrell blinked, coming back into focus as he looked down at their entwined fingers. "Anyway," he continued, his attention focused on Voldemort's hand, "they were pretty pissed after that and told us to take our prison outfits off. Seriously, right there in front of everyone. And I'm self-conscious at the best of times, and I didn't want all those horrible people to see me without anything on, so I shook my head. They hit me repeatedly until I did."

Voldemort wanted to stop him from talking as it was making him physically sick, but he simply squeezed Quirrell's hand tighter, a lump forming in his throat. He couldn't do this. He couldn't sit and listen any further, but he had to for Quirrell. Even if it made him want to break down and scream with guilt and remorse, he had to.

"So if that wasn't embarrassing enough, the 'shower' they promised us was essentially being hosed down with absolutely freezing water for five minutes straight. It was agonising, and all around the five of us, the other prisoners were laughing at us for being so stupid and believing the dementors would do something good for any one. The prisoner who was standing next to me actually caught pneumonia and died. I still can't believe _I_ actually made it out of that one, because they didn't even dry –"

Voldemort ripped his hand away, standing up with his fists clenched. The image of getting a message from the dementors telling him that Quirrell had died from an illness like pneumonia, all because of him, was making his breathing raunchy and his eyes glossy. "Why the _hell_ didn't you tell me?" He found himself demand furiously, "What other awful stories are you keeping from me? No, just shut up. Stop it, stop talking. I can't deal with this." He turned away, his breathing becoming so strained he could barely form another sentence. "My…my fault…Stop it, Quirrell. I'm…I'm going upstairs."

"Voldemort, I – y-you said I c-could tell you!"

Voldemort ignored him, storming away and bursting open their bedroom door, slamming it behind him before he practically collapsed onto their bed. He buried his face in his hands, his shoulders shaking as he tried to calm down. _You could have killed him, _that little voice in the back of his head piped up, _you as good as killed him, just to have your pathetic revenge on Harry Potter. You're so fucking lucky and you don't even know it. You _should've_ died when your killing curse rebounded._

"I know!" He hissed aloud, "I know, alright! I never meant any of this…" He furiously wiped at his eyes when the bedroom door opened and he heard Quirrell creep over.

"Voldy…" His partner whispered gently, crawling in beside him, "I'm sorry for upsetting you."

_And now he's apologising to YOU. Say something, you fucking idiot. _

"Oh, Quirrell." Voldemort rolled over so that they were facing each other. "Don't…please, don't ever apologise to me for _anything. _I should be the one repeatedly saying sorry to _you." _

"I don't want you to feel guilty. That wasn't my intention." He fretted, scooting closer. "Dude, I feel awful."

"Don't! Please. I don't want that on my conscious too." Voldemort said desperately. They were so close to each other now, his chest pressing against Quirrell's. Quirrell suddenly smiled slowly, his fingers dancing over Voldemort's strong muscles.

"C'mon," he said huskily, pulling him in for a kiss. When he pulled apart, he was breathing heavily and grinning. "We're gonna have sex, right now."

"What, really?" Voldemort asked, startled, "You're up to it? You sure?"

"You _really _know how to turn people on, Voldemort." Quirrell said dryly, kissing him again. "Yes. Yes I'm up for it. I'm all yours."

Voldemort smiled too, his arms around Quirrell's neck as Quirrell wrapped his legs around Voldemort's waist. "Well, then," He murmured, pulling his face closer to his own. "Sex it is."

**A/N: Apologies for any typos! Don't forget to leave a review, it would really make my day (: **


	5. Chapter 5

**Sorry it's taken a while and sorry this chapter's a bit shorter than usual! Just want to say HUGE thank you to all of you for your reviews and favourites! They all mean so much to me and I adore being embraced in all the fandom's Quirrellmort love, as I'm quite new to it! :') **

**Anyway, enjoy and don't forget to leave a review! **

Voldemort was the one to wake up first, yawning and stretching. He blearily rubbed his eyes to find Quirrell curled up against his chest, still fast asleep. He smiled to himself, gently rubbing his partner's lower back in a circular motion, as he knew it'd probably ache a lot when he eventually woke due to last night's antics. Still, at least they had some of the pain-relief potion left over.

Quirrell shifted in his sleep and murmured incoherently, his grip tightening around Voldemort. The ex-Dark Lord wondered if he was having a nightmare and was all set to shake him awake when Quirrell's eyes snapped open and flickered around.

"Hey," Voldemort whispered, continuing to slowly rub his back, "are you alright?"

Quirrell gave a shaky sigh of relief and melted at his touch, nodding. "Y-yeah, sorry..."

"Bad dream?"

"Not really, just a bit of a weird one. I actually slept pretty well during the night. For some reason I was _exhausted_." He said slyly, angling his head to kiss Voldemort's lips.

Voldemort grinned once they had parted and used his other hand to massage Quirrell's scalp. "I wasn't too rough, was I?"

"Nah." Quirrell yawned, nuzzling against him. "I'm a little sore, but if you carry on stroking that spot there I'll be just fine."

"Alright, then." He chuckled, brushing his lips across Quirrell's head, gently kissing his injury. "Well we'll get some more of that potion down you anyway, because we have a big day ahead of us."

Quirrell frowned, looking up at him. "We do?"

"Yep."

"Can't I just stay in bed with you all day and drink chamomile tea?"

"As tempting as that sounds, Squirrel, I'm afraid this can't wait."

Quirrell still looked a little confused. "Uh, ok. So what're we doing?"

"Tracking down Bellatrix, of course. And I'm not letting you out of my sight for even one minute, so you're coming with me. I'm sure it'll make you feel better to hear her suffer too. C'mon, up you get."

"V-Voldemort!" Quirrell exclaimed, slightly panicked, "Are you sure this is wise? What – no – what if she -"

"Dude, relax!" Voldemort soothingly rubbed his shoulder, feeling how tense his boyfriend had become. "Don't freak out about this, ok? You know it needs to be done. She won't just go away by herself – I'm gonna have to make her."

Quirrell looked faintly terrified. "Are you…are you gonna k-kill –"

"No! No. At least, I don't think so." He swore under his breath, rubbing his forehead. "No. I made a promise to you and myself never to kill another person, no matter how much I want to."

Quirrell still didn't look overly reassured. "I don't know…I have a bad feeling about this…"

"I'm not gonna let her hurt you again, if that's what you're worried about."

"It's not only that." Quirrell sat up, running his hands through his hair as he bit his lip. "I mean, there's just something so weird about the situation. I feel like this is some sort of plan, like it's what she wants. She wants you to go to her."

Voldemort shrugged, trying not to let any guilt show on his face as he was reminded of his awful mistake. "Maybe. But it's not gonna affect me. In case you haven't noticed, I'm the Dark Lord. Well, I used to be."

Quirrell glanced back at him, still looking quite uncertain. "I…" he sighed heavily, his hands dropping back to his sides in defeat. "Alright. I guess we're finding Bellatrix then."

Voldemort grinned, pulling him in for another kiss. "You don't need to worry about a thing, my man. I've got this."

Quirrell huffed, "I don't doubt it." He carefully got out of bed, wincing as certain muscles protested and opened up his drawers in search of an outfit. Voldemort watched him from their bed and eventually Quirrell looked back with a raised eyebrow. "What?"

Voldemort simply grinned back at him. "You're just cute, y'know?"

He blushed, looking pleased, and Voldemort adored him. "Yeah?"

"Don't act like you don't know it. _How _were you single all of your life before you met me?"

"I'm…well, I was always a bit of a sissy…" He said meekly, pulling a t-shirt over his head, "And I was the only gay kid in my year at Hogwarts…"

"Seriously? There were tons when I was in that place."

"Oh? Did you date any of them?" Quirrell asked, a little too casually.

"I didn't date. I fucked." Voldemort stretched lazily and Quirrell glared at him disapprovingly. "But nah, I fooled around with girls mostly when I was at school. Didn't really want to admit to myself or anyone else that I was bisexual at that time, y'know?"

"Right." Quirrell muttered, hopping into a pair of jeans. "And…these girls…how many, exactly?"

Voldemort shrugged, clearly not noticing his partner's discomfort, "Uh…Hard to say. Can't really remember. Six?"

Quirrell felt himself inwardly cringe. _Six_ girls? And that had only been at Hogwarts; how many guys and girls had he screwed afterwards? They had to have been better than Quirrell, surely. His crippling self-doubt was kicking in again and his face was growing red as he cleared his throat. "Um, so…these…these girls, were they any, you know, good?"

Voldemort frowned at him, then realisation dawned on his face and he started to laugh. "Oh, _Squirrel, _are you _jealous?"_

"No!" The other man lied furiously, "No, I was just asking! Stop it!"

Voldemort stopped laughing instantly and held out his hand. "Come here." When Quirrell irritably grasped onto his hand Voldemort tugged him back onto the bed, causing Quirrell to yelp slightly. "They were _nothing,_" the ex-Dark Lord murmured, kissing him on the lips, "_nothing _compared to you. Dude, you're fantastic. And not just at sex, but at everything. There's no one in the world like you."

"But –"

"No buts." Voldemort put a finger to his partner's lips. "How many times, Quirinus Quirrell? You're the only person I've ever loved, the only one I want. Ok?"

Quirrell smiled in spite of himself. "Ok."

"Great. Glad that's settled." Voldemort kissed him on the forehead, careful not to go near his injury and hurt him, "Now, c'mon, up you get!" He shoved Quirrell back slightly, and the skinnier man almost toppled off of the bed, earning Voldemort a glare. "We have a bitch to track down!"

XxX

Bellatrix aimlessly reclined against Lucius Malfoy's armchair, resting her chin in her hand in boredom as she contemplated exactly what her Master's plan was. She was incredibly confused about the whole thing, but she had assured every remaining Death Eater that their Lord was alive and well, sure to return to them sooner or later to reveal what he'd been thinking up.

In the meantime, she'd had her fun with that stupid little peon, and her hand was itching to fire more curses from her wand. She wondered what Voldemort had done when he'd seen the state of the slave – laughed? Ignored him? She seriously hoped he'd done both, to teach that useless piece of shit that he was _nothing _in the eyes of Lord Voldemort. The kiss between herself and her Lord proved that, didn't it? But…

There was always that doubt in the back of her mind, that niggling fear that Voldemort actually _cared _for that man. It was a ridiculous notion, but just _what if? _There had certainly been a few odd occurrences, but she'd just assumed that was Voldemort's way of warning her off for a bit so he could make his grand return and have the element of surprise. Yet again, back when the peon had been left to rot in Azkaban, her Lord had acted strange for months. He'd hardly talk, or engage in any evil schemes, and whenever they'd had sex he had always tried to back out of it beforehand, making some excuse of 'being too tired'. One time he'd even started to moan the wrong name, but quickly managed to stop himself before Bella could hear it fully. Didn't it begin with a Q, though? A Q…Quirrell?

_No_. she slammed her fist down on the arm of the chair, seething at her own thoughts. Voldemort would return; he _had _to. He had to have some sort plan, surely…

"Bella?"

She snapped her head up as Lucius twirled into the room dramatically. "What d'you want?"

"I was just wondering how long you were planning on staying here." He said airily, perching on the arm of the chair and ignoring her grouchy glare.

"That's the way you treat old friends? Kicking 'em out before they've barely stayed a day?" She snapped back, narrowing her eyes. "You should show some respect, Lucius. Y'know, when our Dark King –"

"I know, I know." He rolled his eyes loftily. "I didn't mean it like that. You can stay for however long you like, providing he really _is _on his way, as you keep insisting…"

She flushed, "Are you calling me a liar now? Because I've seen him, ok? I've seen him with my very own eyes, alive and well!"

"Jeez, Bella! I don't doubt it. It's just that sometimes it's almost too good to believe. That he's really here…"

Bellatrix relaxed, a smile playing across her face and suddenly she was grinning and clapping her hands. "Yeah, I know! This is gonna be just like the old days, Louey! We'll track down that Potter boy and our Lord can blast his fucking _brains _out!"

"It'll be great." He sighed happily, then frowned. "I just wonder why he hasn't showed himself sooner…"

"He'll be thinking up some scheme, duh." She said quickly, trying to calm her own doubts as much as Lucius'. "So as soon as he comes back we'll all be ready to follow his ideas through. He'll probably have needed as much rest as possible, too, if he was weakened by Potter…"

"I suppose." Lucius agreed. "Damn that Potter boy. But we'll get him this time and – wait, did you hear that?"

Bellatrix had sat bolt upright, her attention raptured. "Someone's knocking at the door. Is it your little shit of a son?"

"No, no, he's at Hogwarts! And he's not even really my son, but – Bella, I think that's…" He was peering out of the window and he inhaled sharply, turning back to face her with widened eyes. "It looks like our Lord has finally come."


	6. Chapter 6

**I GOT MY APOCALYPTOUR DVD! *SCREAMS***

**It's really helping me through my exam weeks this month haha! And Brian Rosenthal is so perfect I want to CRY. **

**Thank you for the reviews! I really appreciate them and I'm glad you're enjoying the story! **

Voldemort held tightly onto Quirrell's hand, but it did nothing to stop the ex-professor's body from shaking as they waited for someone to answer the door. Voldemort turned his head to him and offered a reassuring smile, but Quirrell was far too worked up to return it. Instead he buried his face into Voldemort's shoulder, not even bothering to try and appear brave.

"Hey," Voldemort gently cupped his chin and made him look up, "Quirrell, it'll be fine. I promise. But listen, if you _really_ don't want to do this, I'll take you home and come back myself. I just want to be able to protect you, that's all."

Quirrell bit his lip, his beautiful eyes troubled before he said, "No. I'll be fine, as long as you're here."

Voldemort kissed his nose playfully and still held onto his hand when the grand old door swung open to reveal Lucius Malfoy. His dazzling smile fell from his face as he warily regarded Quirrell, but then he sank into a deep bow. "My Dark King!" He whispered, dramatically placing a hand to his chest, "You have returned."

Quirrell bit his lip again, only this time to stop himself from laughing. Voldemort was clearly having the same issue, and he snorted, covering his mouth with his free hand. Eventually he managed to compose himself and straightened up, withdrawing his wand from his pocket. "Indeed," He said grandly, "I'm back, but not to stay. Is Bella in?"

"Certainly, my Lord!" Lucius beamed again, "We've been waiting on you. The rest of the Death Eaters shall be summoned immediately!"

Quirrell gave a tiny whimper and Lucius glanced at him disapprovingly. "And who is this, my Dark King?"

Voldemort soothingly rubbed Quirrell's shoulder as he glowered at the tall man. "This is Quirinus Quirrell. I'm sure you remember him. He's the reason I was able to ever come back in the first place, and he saved me again only recently when Potter supposedly killed me."

"Oh! Of course." Lucius said nervously at Voldemort's tone. "Yes, yes, Quirrell! Well…thank you for helping our Lord in his time of need. But you don't – my Lord, he doesn't appear to have the Dark Mark?" Lucius was glancing at Quirrell's arm dubiously and the ex-professor blushed.

"That's because he's not a Death Eater." Voldemort said simply, causing Lucius to look even more confused.

"Well I suppose that can be easily rearranged!" Lucius said optimistically, "Come in, the two of you, and we'll give Quirrell here an official welcome to the fold!"

Quirrell looked faintly sick and abruptly shook his head. "No! I'm not becoming a Death Eater. I h-hate Death Eaters!"

Lucius' smile dropped and was replaced with a dangerous snarl as he stepped closer to the now cowering man. "It is an _honour _to serve the Dark Lord! How dare you defy him and his followers –"

Voldemort held out his hand threateningly. "Easy, Lucius!" He snapped, "Leave him alone. I don't want him to be a Death Eater, ok? I want to see Bellatrix."

"Very well," Lucius sniffed, glaring at Quirrell, "this way, my Lord. Shall the blasphemer stay outside?"

"Nope. The _blasphemer _is staying with me at all times, got it?" Voldemort warned, taking hold of Quirrell's hand again and enjoying Lucius' thoroughly perplexed and bewildered expression. "He's mine. Lead the way."

Quirrell blushed, smiling to himself at being officially known as Voldemort's, but the smile faded when they entered the large, old house. Each step they took reminded him that he'd soon be seeing Bellatrix again and he honestly didn't think he'd be able to handle it. It wasn't just the idea of more possible torture; it was the snide comments, the disgust when she looked at him, the insults, which would all bring his crippling self-doubt to the surface. Because at the end of the day, it was partly true, wasn't it? He wasn't worthy –

"Stop." Voldemort said suddenly, causing Quirrell to jump. "Stop thinking like that, ok? It's not true, and I can't stand to have you think so low of yourself."

"You didn't need to look into my head." Quirrell said quietly, feeling embarrassed and exposed.

"Dude, your emotions are so strong I can't help but pick up on them." Voldemort tapped at Quirrell's chest with his free hand and gave him a smile. "You're part of me, remember? Now relax. Everything's gonna be fine."

Quirrell didn't answer. All too soon, Lucius ahead of them stopped and placed his hand on the door handle in front of them. "She's in there, my Lord. Shall I wait outside?"

"Do whatever the hell you want." Voldemort withdrew his wand again as he let go of Quirrell's hand, his face determined.

"Shall I summon the rest of the Death Eaters?"

"No." Came the stiff reply. "I'd rather you didn't."

"Um." Lucius still looked incredibly confused. "Ok, my King. Anything you want. I'll just wait in the drawing room, then. I'll be there when you've finished talking to Bella. I'm assuming it's a personal moment –"

"You could say that." Voldemort nodded. "Thank you, Lucius. You've been very helpful."

Lucius swelled with pride and gave Quirrell quite a nasty look as he passed him that Voldemort missed. Quirrell frowned back at him and was about to make some retort when Voldemort shoved the door open and dragged him inside.

Bellatrix's squeal of excitement was cut short and her arms, which had been outstretched to probably give Voldemort a hug, limply fell by her sides. "You again?" Her mouth twisted in irritation, "How many times do I have to hurt you, peon? My Lord, what's going on?"

"Hello, Bellatrix."

"Have you brought the idiot so you can join in on the fun this time or what?" She approached him and sank into a deep bow, a taunting smirk on her face. "I take it you saw my handiwork on him from yesterday. I learnt from the best, after all."

"Get up." Voldemort snapped and she straightened, her cheeks slightly flushed.

"Yes, my Lord?"

"You're gonna pay for what you did, do you understand? You had no right. Quirrell's done nothing to you."

She regarded him with a perplexed expression, her eyes drawn to his wand which was pointed at her chest. "What does it matter? He's nothing, anyway! I did it for _you!" _

Voldemort laughed coldly. "Yeah? How'd you figure _that?" _

"Voldemort, he thinks…" She laughed too, a little hysterically, "He thinks you _love _him! It's ridiculous! I was getting him to back off, for Wizard God's sake!"

Voldemort looked at Quirrell softly, who was silent and shaking by his side, his eyes on the wooden floor. "I told you this two days ago when you came into my house," He said simply, "I do love him. I've changed. It's not my fault you refused to believe me." Quirrell glanced up and offered him a hesitant smile, which Voldemort returned.

"But we both know that's not true, Voldemort, don't we?" Bellatrix sounded desperate now and was breathing rapidly. Voldemort's wand didn't waver. "We know because of what you did."

Quirrell glanced at Voldemort nervously. "What did you do? Did you hurt someone, Voldemort?"

Voldemort looked paler than usual and his eyes had narrowed as he ignored his partner. "I'm here to teach you a lesson, Bellatrix. Get out of my way, Quirrell."

"You're gonna curse me, is that it?" Bellatrix's voice had risen, "Curse me before he finds out?"

"CRUCIO –"

"Voldemort, stop!" Quirrell shoved Voldemort's arm and the curse blasted the nearest wall instead. "I need to hear this. What have you done? Why haven't you told me? I'm here to help –"

"See? Listen to him! Listen to how pathetic he is! Just TELL him!" Bellatrix screamed, "Tell him so he'll get the message! Wizard GOD!"

"What's she talking about?" Quirrell asked desperately, "What's going _on_, Voldemort? Voldemort?"

"Refer to him as the _Dark Lord, _you little fucker!" She roared, intimidatingly striding towards him, causing him to flinch back. "Well, my Lord, come on! Or should _I _be the one to break his pathetic little heart?"

Voldemort's grip on his wand was so tight his knuckles had turned white. His arm trembled slightly and his face held an expression of rage and fear. "Hold your tongue, Bellatrix. I'm so close to showing you what this wand can do. You don't want to do this."

"Will you please tell me what's happening?" Quirrell half-shouted, actually stomping his foot. "What's she _talking _about? Voldemort! Look at me!"

"Be QUIET!" Bellatrix shrieked, branding her wand at him. Quirrell stepped back, his face screwed up as he waited for the pain to strike, but Voldemort got in there first.

"STUPEFY!" He roared, pushing Quirrell behind him. Bellatrix flew backwards, her body slamming against the wall forcefully. Quirrell gripped onto Voldemort's shoulders anxiously when she groaned a few moment later and struggled back to her feet, rubbing the back of her head.

"Pushing me away, Voldemort?" She whispered, and Voldemort knew this was it, knew he had to stop her from speaking, but it was too late. "You sure as hell weren't pushing me off when you _kissed_ me two days ago!" She practically yelled the last word, her eyes triumphant.

Voldemort closed his eyes and bowed his head as Quirrell slowly withdrew his hands from where they'd previously been griping Voldemort's shoulders and stepped back. "I'm sorry?" He asked in a dulled, quiet voice.

"Yep, that's right." Bellatrix grinned. "That night when I paid you a housewarming visit? Voldemort and I had our fun while you lay upstairs. Don't you get it now, peon? He doesn't love you. You're nothing but a slave."

"That's not true!" Voldemort said desperately, trying to hold onto Quirrell's hands, but Quirrell forcefully slapped them away. "I mean, yes – yes, ok, I kissed her, but I swear it was a mistake! I kicked her out _straight _after, she just messed with my head a little! I do love you Quirrell, I love you more than anything – please –"

"You can't." The young man said simply, though his eyes had welled with unshed tears. "If you really did, you'd never have done something like that."

"Quirrell," Voldemort said urgently, taking a step towards him. "At least hear me out, ok? I'll tell you everything. Please –"

But it was too late; with a small 'pop' Quirrell had Disapparated and he was left with Bellatrix. Voldemort stared blankly at the empty spot, his mouth dry and his heart pounding. He felt sick. He should've seen this coming, he should've prevented Bellatrix from…_Bellatrix. _

"My Lord?" She touched his shoulder and he tensed, shaking in anger. "What's the matter? It's just me now. You don't have to pretend anymore."

"Look what you've done," He hissed, "take a good look, you petulant bitch."

She flinched away from him. "You're the one who kissed ME!" She exclaimed furiously. "And it was clearly what you wanted, or you wouldn't have done it! Now he's finally gone, so –"

"There is NO plan!" He shouted before she could say any more. "Look at me and listen closely. I. Love. Quirrell. I'm staying with him 'till the end of my days. I came here to hurt you for what you did to him and nothing else! Not to rule the world, not to engage in evil plans, _nothing! _Ok?"

"Yeah? Well it looks as if he doesn't feel the same!" She pointed at the empty space where Quirrell had stood, sounding hysterical. "So your plan to live happily ever after with that pussy is ruined by no one but yourself!"

"You didn't have to tell him!" He yelled back, "It was a stupid mistake, but now he thinks it meant something!"

A dry sob escaped from Bellatrix's mouth and she buried her face in her hands. "It really meant nothing? You really…This is it?"

"Yes." He said quietly, turning away from her. "I'm sorry you got your hopes up, but this is me now. This is what I've chosen. I'm not asking you to accept it, but I'm asking you to leave me alone. Don't go near Quirrell again, or I'll be back. And I _will _hurt you." He glanced down at his wand, wondering whether it was worth it cursing her now, but she looked so broken and bewildered and he couldn't help but remember her when they'd both been a young couple at Hogwarts. He didn't want to hurt her any more than necessary today. "I'll always remember you as my craziest and most loyal Death Eater. And my… friend." He mumbled and she looked up at him, tears streaking her cheeks as she regarded him silently.

With that said, he turned away and prepared to Disapparate to find Quirrell. He couldn't lose the most precious thing in his life, he just couldn't. The thought of his soul mate thinking that Voldemort didn't love him was too much to bear and he hurriedly closed his eyes, disappearing from the room, leaving Bellatrix standing alone.

**Whoa, sorry for all the angst, guys! Please leave a review to tell me what you thought! **


	7. Chapter 7

**Thank you so much everyone for reading and reviewing! **

**To the guest reviewer Lia – the reason why I'm writing Quirrell with a lot of insecurities is because, if you remember from the musical, he's been single all of his life, so he's bound to feel a bit out of sorts in a new and intense relationship. Voldemort has typically been with more people, so I just imagine that Quirrell must feel insecure when the subject is brought up, as he himself is so new to all of this. But maybe that's just my take on it and I'm glad you like my story anyway (-: **

**Ok, now there is a LOT of angst here, which I feel kind of guilty about (sorry, everyone!). Please leave a comment and tell me what you think! **

"Quirrell?" Voldemort called out once he'd Apparrated into their living room, hoping to Wizard God that his partner hadn't left him, "Quirrell, where are you?"

There was no response and Voldemort tried to shove down the rising panic in his voice as he proceeded to search around the house. "Quirrell, let me just explain! It was nothing! Quirrell?" He heard a clatter from upstairs and immediately hurried up, locating the sound that was coming from their bedroom. "Quirrell!" He panted as he shoved open the door. "I –" He froze as he saw what was happening; Quirrell was emptying out drawers and chucking clothes into a suitcase which lay opened on top of their bed.

"Thought I'd give you a head start on packing." He snapped, looking up at Voldemort. "Guess you can take over now."

"What the hell are you doing?" Voldemort gestured incredulously at the scene.

"Like I said, helping you pack. I want you out of my house."

"Come on, man, you haven't even heard me out yet! Is there really any need for you to overreact like this when it was an honest mistake? She's to blame, not me! Stop being so childish."

"Childish? _Me? _No, Voldemort, it's childish to not even admit that it takes two and you're equally in the wrong!" Quirrell shouted, slamming the lid of the suitcase shut and furiously glaring at him. "She _fell_ on your mouth, is that it?"

"Ok." Voldemort threw his hands up in surrender. "Ok, fine! I kissed her, but she provoked me into it. It's not like I fucked her in the kitchen or anything!"

Quirrell looked faintly sick as he turned away, wiping at his eyes hurriedly. "You kissed a woman who tortured me, then kept it a secret, leading me to believe that you hated her just like I did -"

"Quirrell, I – I - of _course _I hatewhat she did to you, you have to believe me!"

"Not enough to stop your hormones, clearly." Quirrell spat bitterly. "Do I not fulfil your needs or something? Was I not giving you enough attention? Did you need some more _fun, _Voldemort?"

Before he could stop himself, Voldemort snapped in defence, "Yeah, maybe I did! You were always so fucking busy focusing your attention on your damn muggle school! Before Bellatrix showed up at the house we'd barely kissed or even _hugged! _And don't get me started on our lack of sex life, 'cause holy shit –" He had to duck out of the way as Quirrell hurled a pillow at him furiously.

"_That's_ why? That's why you kissed her, because I wasn't giving you my body on a regular basis?" Quirrell yelled, throwing another pillow at him. "I thought our relationship was based on more than that, Voldemort!"

Voldemort looked horrified and he rapidly shook his head. What the hell had he said _that _for? He should be on his knees grovelling, not firing insults that were completely out of line. "Quirrell, I didn't – I'm so sorry! Of _course_ our relationship is more than that! I love you, remember?"

"You have a funny way of showing it." Quirrell growled, his lower lip trembling as he sat on the edge of the bed, running his hands through his dark hair.

"I know. I'm an idiot. Quirrell – it didn't _mean _anything. She surprised me, that's all, but I swear to Wizard God I stopped it right away and kicked her out of the house. I told her I wasn't interested, because I'm with you, and you're the only one I want."

"If I hadn't been recovering from a curse…If I'd been out the house, maybe, what then? If she wanted to take it further? Would you've had sex with her, Voldemort?"

"No!" He insisted desperately, "Of course not!"

Quirrell looked at him, looked right into his eyes, and Voldemort broke the contact first, ashamed.

"Yeah," Quirrell murmured, "'cause she's everything you'd ever want. Twisted, pretty, murderous. So why waste your time with me? It's because I'm nothing but a horcrux."

Voldemort approached him and knelt in front of him, tightly gripping onto his hands. "Don't you _dare _think like that. Dude, for the love of Wizard God, you're everything to me. Yes, you have a piece of my soul in you, but that doesn't define who you are. I made a stupid mistake, and I hate myself so much for making you feel like this. The only reason I didn't tell you was because I knew you'd take it like _this_!"

"She seemed to be pretty convinced this whole 'loving me' thing is an act."

"It isn't! C'mon, you _know _it isn't. Please…Don't make me beg. Can't you forgive me? Squirrel? I'll do anything -"

"Don't call me that." Quirrell said quietly, tearing his hands away as he stood from the bed. "I meant what I said. If you're attracted to someone who's tortured me multiple times, I don't want you here, not when I know it's all a lie. Pack your things."

"I'm not leaving. I promised I'd never leave you, and I won't."

"You also promised you wouldn't hurt me." Quirrell pointed out icily. "But if you're so true to your word, fine. I'll sleep on the couch until you _do _leave."

Voldemort shook his head stiffly. "That won't do your back problems any good. I'll sleep on the couch instead, how about that?"

Quirrell glared at him, then shrugged. "Fine. Whatever makes you leave this place sooner."

"You're wasting your time, Quirrell; I told you, I'm not leaving you. How would you manage?"

His face flushed red. "Oh, you think I'm so much of a sissy I can't handle living without you? Get over yourself!"

"You're still recovering from Azkaban!" Voldemort shot back. "You're claustrophobic, you find it difficult to talk to people, you have nightmares practically every night –"

"Yeah? And whose fault is that?" Quirrell retorted fiercely, making Voldemort stop and his heart beat quicken.

"I said…I said how sorry I was…" Voldemort's voice was barely above a whisper, and his gaze had dropped to the floor in guilt and embarrassment.

"Sure you did. But sometimes 'sorry' doesn't quite cut it." Quirrell's voice was laced with acid, "Oh, sure, you're _sorry. _I don't doubt that. But saying that word doesn't cancel out everything that happened in there. Having my happy thoughts devoured from my body, being starved, being humiliated and abused by the other cellmates –"

"Excuse me?" Voldemort looked up at him suddenly, feeling every part of his body tremble. "Abused? In what way? Quirinus Quirrell, abused in _what way?_"

Quirrell's face flushed again and he irritably shook his head. "What's the matter, worried you weren't my first time after all, or worried I gave others more action in Azkaban than I did with you?"

Voldemort felt sick as realisation dawned. "Please, tell me you weren't…Not you…" He couldn't be hearing this, he couldn't actually be hearing that his Quirrell had been…

"No. But it came close." Quirrell admitted heavily, "This guy tried to get off with me after I'd been drained from a dementor. I told him no, so he punched me to make an example out of me. The others heard about it and joined in every once and while."

"What the – why didn't you – for fuck's sake!" Voldemort's breathing was starting to grow raunchy again, the familiar feeling of numbing guilt overpowering him.

"Yeah, well, sorry I neglected to mention that little fact, but don't worry dude; I have _tons _of other stories –"

"That's ENOUGH!" Voldemort roared, shoving Quirrell back forcefully. The skinnier man almost fell over, but managed to straighten himself up just in time as Voldemort continued, "Wizard God, Quirrell, just shut _up!" _

Quirrell's furious expression had turned faintly terrified at Voldemort's anger, but the young man did he best to hold his ground. "What're you going to do about it, Voldemort? Curse me into silence? Can you not handle the sudden realisation that everything bad that happened in there was all _your_ fault?" He stopped when he saw Voldemort's expression and felt inexplicably concerned, despite his best efforts to keep a cold demeanour.

Voldemort was biting his fist and his eyes had glazed over. He didn't say anything for a long time, then he turned on his heel and went into the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind him. After a few minutes, Quirrell groaned and headed over, rapping on the door. "Hey. I don't really think it was all your fault, you know. I'm just really fucking mad at you, but I didn't mean what I said. You couldn't have known what happened in there. Voldemort?"

"I'll go in the morning." Came the snappy reply, though his voice sounded suspiciously raspier than usual, "You can leave now so I can finish packing. Happy?"

Quirrell bit his lip, staring at the door, unable to believe any of this was actually happening. "F-fine." He said, "I'll leave you to it." He turned from the door, but heard muffled noises coming from behind it and his heart sank. "Voldemort…"

"_What?"_ He practically growled, _"_This is what you want, Quirrell. And I'm gonna do what's right for you for a change. Happy?"

Now he was making _Quirrell_ feel guilty, even though he was the one in the wrong? The ex-professor gritted his teeth and turned away, leaving the room with clenched fists. How the hell had this happened? Why was everything falling apart around him? He knuckled his eyes furiously, determined not to be a weakling and break down in tears, not matter how much he wanted to. He had to be strong with this and show Voldemort that he couldn't mess him around.

A few hours later, however, curled up in bed alone, Quirrell was seriously doubting his actions. It felt so awful without Voldemort beside him, so inexplicably lonely, that it was hard dropping off, despite him being exhausted. He buried his face in his pillow in an attempt to banish all thoughts of Voldemort and Bellatrix getting it off in his own kitchen. The mental images kept playing over and over in his head until he couldn't stand it anymore and he swung his legs out of bed, shakily getting to his feet.

His wand was downstairs, so he figured if he crept down and brewed up a quick sleeping potion he'd be alright. He just prayed to Wizard God that Voldemort was asleep so he wouldn't have to face him. Bad luck was on his side yet again however, as when he sneaked into the kitchen where his wand and the cauldron lay, he heard movement behind him.

"Can't sleep either, huh?" Voldemort asked quietly, moving past him to get himself a glass of water.

Quirrell silently shook his head as he hurriedly snatched up his wand, but Voldemort stopped him. "Where're you going with that?"

"Figured I could do something to help me sleep." Quirrell replied shortly, before grudgingly admitting, "Not that it matters. It probably wouldn't work anyway."

"Quirrell?" Voldemort said quickly as the dark-haired man turned away again. "I'm sorry. For everything. Look at me; I'm spending one night without you by my side and I'm already missing you like hell. I need you, man. I _love_ you."

Quirrell bit his fist out of frustration and desperation. "And I love you too, you idiot! I love you so much it scares me, and that's why I can't…I c-can't bear the thought of you being with _her!"_

"But I'm _not _with her! I never was! It was a mistake – yet another one on my behalf. But y'know, earlier, what you said…it was right. I need to accept the blame, and that was one mistake too many. I should never have come back to Azkaban. That was your opportunity to have a fresh start, and I just fucked it up and hurt you all over again."

"What are…what are you saying?" Quirrell whispered. "Do you regret being with me?"

"Of course not. Being with you has changed everything in my life for the better. No, I regret what I've done to you. If I'd have left you alone, who knows where you would be? Definitely better off –"

"I'd be alone and grieving and wishing I was _dead!" _Quirrell burst out. "Don't you dare, Voldemort! You have no idea how awful it felt when the dementor told me you'd died! _No _idea! And then you came back and – and it was the best moment of my life. Knowing you…cared after all."

"I care more than you'll ever know."

"Then _why? _Why did you kiss her?"

Voldemort groaned, rubbing his forehead. "I told you. It was a stupid mistake. I never intended you to find out, because I figured it there was no real point, not when it didn't mean anything and I knew it'd upset you. D'you want me to open up my mind for you to prove it?"

Quirrell shook his head in disgust. "That'd just make me see the kiss for myself, and my own mental images are bad enough, thank you very much."

"It was literally worth two seconds." Voldemort moved closer, cupping Quirrell's chin firmly to make him look at him. "No passion, no pleasure out of it. Like I said; a _mistake. _Nothing like when I kiss you." To prove his point, Voldemort brought his lips down gently onto Quirrell's, pouring all of the emotion he had into it. He wasn't exactly surprised, yet crushingly disappointed all the same when Quirrell pulled away.

"Wow," The ex-professor said quietly, "that's you, Voldemort – always trying to get out of things by sexual contact."

"For the love of –" Voldemort exclaimed, then calmed himself down, gritting his teeth. "Ok. So it's settled; I leave tomorrow morning."

"Yeah." Quirrell replied, though his teeth were chattering slightly and he didn't meet his gaze.

"I suppose it's for the best, anyway." Voldemort continued, "Now you have a chance at a new life."

"And you? What're you going to do?"

He shrugged. "We'll see."

"You're gonna go back to them, aren't you? The Death Eaters."

Voldemort glared at him disapprovingly. "Holy shit, Quirrell –"

"C'mon. I'm not an idiot."

"No? You sure are acting like one." He snapped back, hating himself as Quirrell flinched in hurt and embarrassment. "Why _would_ I go back to them?"

"Because the wizarding world thinks you're dead and there's nowhere else safe that you could go to once you're out of here. It's the logical explanation, and it's what you're gonna do. I know you, Voldemort. Besides, who knows? Maybe it'll give you that passion to take over the world again."

"You know how much I've changed. Why would I go back to that awful version of myself?"

"I don't know. Maybe because you love the power, and the attention from people and –"

"Quirrell, you're really gonna have to shut up, do you hear me? This angry attitude of yours is pissing me off and it isn't you, so stop doing it, or I'll get frustrated."

Quirrell looked at him stonily before shrugging. "I'd best get back to bed, then. Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Quirrell. And listen, if you have a nightmare…I'm here to help. No matter what you think of me right now, I'll always love and care for you. So you know where I am if you need me, alright?"

Quirrell sniffed a little, his eyes already beginning to sting as he gave a curt nod. Without another word, he hurried up to bed, alone once more and dreading what the morning would bring.


	8. Chapter 8

**Sorry, this has taken a while! This story is turning out to be longer than I anticipated and is kind of going in a different direction, but I'm enjoying writing it! Thank you so much for all your kind reviews, they mean a lot. **

Voldemort jolted awake, startled by the sound of loud alarms. He scrambled off of the couch, his foggy and sleepy brain trying to figure out exactly what was happening, and then he realised – his defence systems. The Death Eaters were trying to get in.

"Shit!" He blurted out, fumbling around the living room as he searched for his wand. He eventually retrieved it from on top of the coffee table and stumbled around for a moment, still trying to wake up, momentarily forgetting why he'd been sleeping on the couch and not in his bed with Quirrell. Then he remembered and his senses ignited instantly, and before he knew what he was doing, he was sprinting upstairs.

"Quirrell!" He yelled, "Quirrell, get the hell up!" He barged into their room, where Quirrell was stirring in bed. He sat up, looking bewildered through half-closed eyes.

"Wha?" He mumbled, "Voldemort?"

"Get up!" Voldemort commanded, grabbing his arms and hauling him from the bed. "Death Eaters!"

Quirrell clung to him, his eyes suddenly wide. "Why? What's going –"

"I don't _know_! All I know is we have to get out!"

"B-but, my books and clothes and _m-memories_ – this is my home. _Our _home." The young man protested desperately.

"I wasn't going to be living here for much longer, if you remember." Voldemort pointed out, far too agitated to console his partner, no matter how much he wanted to bundle Quirrell up in his arms and comfort him. "You can come back." He insisted shortly, "Once I've gone, they won't be interested in you anymore."

Quirrell looked at him anxiously, and then the bedroom door swung open. A hooded Death Eater hurled a knife in their direction and Voldemort immediately dropped to the floor, pulling Quirrell down with him painfully. He pointed his wand at the Death Eater, roaring the words _"CRUCIO!" _and the man collapsed in agony, screaming loud enough to shatter glass.

"Quirrell? Are you alright? He didn't get you, did he?" Voldemort said in a panic, reaching for his partner. "Quirrell?"

"I'm fine." He was unharmed, yet sounded confused and horrified as he looked up at Voldemort. "What the fuck is going on?"

"I'm guessing they're here to hurt you," Voldemort said dryly, "In an attempt to get me back. They really won't give up, will they? Come on, we're Disappar –"

The Death Eater Voldemort had cursed Apparated behind them, reaching for Quirrell. Before Voldemort could comprehend what was happening, the two of them had vanished. He blinked in confusion at the empty spot, then raw panic took over. "Quirrell? _Quirrell?" _

Fuck. He scrambled back up, alarms still ringing throughout the house as supposedly more Death Eaters attempted to get in past his traps. They'd taken him. They'd _taken _Quirrell. Oh, shit…

"Hey!" He roared, rushing out of their room, "_Hey! _You don't seem to realise that if you kill him, I die too! He's got a piece of my soul in him, you fucking idiots! Where've you taken him?"

"Oh, he's somewhere safe."

Voldemort spun instantly to find the Death Eater Yaxley standing nearby, his face bloodied and bruised as he bowed. "Nice traps you got outside, my Lord! But they were no match for an angry Bellatrix. She's been saying all kinds of shit about you and that squirrel guy."

"Yeah? You mean, about me leaving Dark magic behind and being in love with him?"

"_Exactly_ that, my King -"

"Sorry, that's all true. If this is some sort of attack, she's getting desperate. I am _not _interested. Now tell me where the fuck you've taken my damn Quirrell!"

Yaxley backed away as Voldemort threateningly pointed his wand at his chest. "I – I don't know, my Lord – I was told they'd take him somewhere safe, that's all –"

Voldemort growled. "You're still as idiotic as I remember, Yaxley. What do you think they're doing with him? Babysitting?"

"I –"

"If they know he has part of me in him, they won't hurt him. Listen to me, and listen good, you moron. Go down there, tell those friends of yours to get the fuck off my property, and warn them they can't hurt Quirrell."

"Yeah?" A voice came from the top of the staircase and he whirled, "Or what?"

"Bellatrix Lestrange." Voldemort murmured, taking a step towards her. "Will you ever learn?"

The woman shrugged, her eyes malevolent. "Well, since you won't come back to us willingly, I've had to be a bit drastic. Your little friend will be fine, as long as you come back. If you refuse, I'll have no option but to torture and torture him until he dies."

"If you kill him," Voldemort managed to say, his voice strained, "I'll die too. He's a horcrux. My last one."

Bellatrix wrinkled her nose. "Fine. We'll just torture him until he goes insane. Is that enough for you to come with us?"

"What are you hoping to gain from this? _Seriously?"_

"You, my Lord." She replied simply. "We need you and you need us. If you have no other option but to return as our leader, maybe you're old urges and desires will begin to resurface naturally."

"Ugh!" Voldemort exclaimed angrily, rubbing his forehead. "That is _bullshit! _What's to stop me from just killing you?"

"Because Lucius and I know where Quirrell is. And if you harm either of us, we'll just have to start torturing him."

Voldemort stopped and gradually lowered his arm that was holding his wand. "Bellatrix, this isn't funny, ok? Tell me where he is. Hasn't he been through enough without being held hostage? How long do you plan to keep him for?"

"Until you've gone back to your normal self, my Lord." Bellatrix said with a shrug. "No matter how long it takes. Then we'll release him from captivity."

"Wait, hold up," Voldemort said in disbelief, "so what you're saying is, until I go back to being all evil and shit, Quirrell will be locked away somewhere, right? Then I need to take your word for it that when I start killing mudbloods, or whatever it'll take to make you happy, you'll _release _him? So I don't see him?"

"We might be able to post a video on FlooTube." Bellatrix smirked, "But yep, essentially."

"This is just so stupid. Wizard God. And you'll keep him locked up until I'm back to your standards? That could take months."

"So you'd better start upping your game." She beamed, then opened her arms. "So, my Liege? Are you in?"

He snarled, wanting nothing more than to strike her down with his wand, but he was completely outnumbered and in the weaker position. He hated that. "First thing's first." He snapped, "You're beginning to act like _you're _in charge, and trust me, you are _not. _Only one person is, and that's me. Have you got that?"

She nodded rapidly, bowing, gesturing for Yaxley to do the same.

"Good, now that's settled. Fine. I'll resume my position, as long as Quirrell is kept in safe custody until he is freed."

Bellatrix grinned. "Yes, my Lord. Of course."

"How many other Death Eaters are around here?"

"I came with Lucius – he was the one who took the peon away - and Yaxley here. The others are at Malfoy Manor and all they know is you're alive and making a glorious return. I kept the embarrassing parts from them, like you miraculously turning into a housewife. I thought you'd appreciate that so they wouldn't treat you differently."

"Very well," He began to walk down the stairs, trying to control his anger. "Let's go."

XxX

Two hours already felt like a lifetime. Voldemort paced up and down his room impatiently; bored, frustrated and inexplicably concerned. The Death Eaters had practically sobbed with joy in his presence, bowing and rambling mindless phrases of worship. He didn't care anymore. He wasn't a Dark Lord. So how in Wizard God's name could he act like one?

The others hadn't appeared to have noticed his drastic change in character, but then again, they hadn't really had the chance. He'd snapped at them and retreated to the huge bedroom he'd been 'graciously' given by Narcissa, attempting to communicate with Quirrell through their link ever since. That was the good thing about Quirrell having a piece of his soul in him; occasionally, they could talk telepathically, yet they'd never really had to use this skill until now.

Voldemort growled in frustration, wanting nothing more than to hear Quirrell's voice in his head. He assumed his partner was too agitated to focus properly, which was making the task damn near impossible.

_'Quirrell…Quirrell, can you hear me? I'm here…'_

A voice broke into his head suddenly, desperate and panicked. Voldemort jumped, struggling to keep a hold of the connection.

_'Wizard God, help, I don't know where I am, please –'_

_'Quirrell! Listen to me, you have to calm down, or our connection will break! Listen to my voice, that's it.' _Voldemort commanded through their mind link. _'Now, we're both in a bit of a mess, so I need you to stay calm while I explain. Alright?'_

_'Ok. Ok, I'm sorry…'_

_'First of all, where are you? Are you hurt?'_

_'No, not – not yet. They just left me here. I'm in a room in some house, I don't know, the door's been altered with some magic. There's a window, but it's locked and all I can see are trees and it's getting dark out. There's no light in here. Voldy, help me. I can't fight them, I don't have my wand and I'm already a mess from those fucking Cruciatus curses from your bitch Bellatrix –'_

_'Quirrell! Calm. Down. First of all, she is NOT my bitch, and secondly, you're being held captive by a few Death Eaters. The only way they'll let you out is if I become an evil dictator again, which admittedly isn't the best deal.'_

_'But – what – are you with the rest of them now?'_

_'I'm at their new headquarters, Lucius Malfoy's place. Before you start panicking, which I can tell you are, let me remind you that I have NO desire to be evil again. Bellatrix has told me if I resist, they're going to torture you. We need to play their game, Squirrel, just for now. If I can fool them quickly enough, you'll be unharmed and set free.'_

_'But how long will that take? What if she's lying?'_

_'I don't know and I don't know. I'm so sorry. Look, I'm going to talk to you every day like this. We both might be able to find some information over the next couple of days of where you're being kept. If that happens, I'll come for you, yeah? We'll run off and start all over, move away. We can go back to the house and collect our belongings. That is, if…if you want me.'_

_'I need you. I don't think there's even a question of 'want' anymore. If you love me –'_

_'Of course I do!'_

_'- and I love you, then I'll do what these Death Eaters say. I'll wait for you.'_

_'Quirrell…I'm sorry. I'm sorry for everything. I love you. I'll never hurt you again.'_

_'Don't make promises you can't keep, Voldy. We both have a couple of issues we need to straighten out with each other. But I love you, and need to be with you, so for now it's as simple as that. Tell me one thing, though.'_

_'Yeah?'_

_'If I hadn't been in the house, would you have gone further with Bellatrix?_

Voldemort hesitated. _'I…honestly don't know. I'm telling the truth here. I…maybe. I was frustrated and wound up and – it wouldn't have meant anything, but it would have easily been the worst mistake of my life.'_

_'Ok. Thank you for being so honest with me.'_

_'You still hate me, don't you?'_

_'I could never hate you. Even now, with me locked up with your psychotic Death Eaters, or after being sent to Azkaban, I don't hate you. I'm not HAPPY with you, sure. But you've been put in a really difficult situation and you're being forced into doing something you don't want to do – for me. So I'll cut you some slack just this once. I love you.'_

_'I love you too, hon. So much.'_

_'Stop it, or you'll make me cry.' _He could almost hear the smile in Quirrell's voice, _'I don't want to embarrass myself in front of Death Eaters.'_

_'I have to break the connection now, Squirrel. I don't want to, I'm sorry, but the sooner I start this performance, the sooner they'll let you go.'_

_'I know. It's alright.'_

_'If you want, I can make you sleep. I'll try and visit you in your dreams later, how about that?'_

_'Thank you. That'd be great. I want to see your face so badly.'_

_'Ok, then, just relax. Close your eyes – are you lying down?'_

_'Yeah. There's a bed in here. Pretty uncomfortable, but still.'_

_'Alright. Here we go.' _Voldemort gently made his partner drift off, until he felt their mind link break. He suddenly felt isolated and alone, though he knew Quirrell would feel worse when he woke up.

Voldemort sighed, rubbing his forehead. What a fucking mess this had turned in to. Not including himself in this statement, but why couldn't stupid people just stay _dead? _Molly Weasley clearly needed to work on her damn aim.

**Please review! I wasn't overly sure on this chapter – which is why it took me so long to write! – but I hope you enjoyed it. I'd like to hear what you think :D **


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